


Fog

by flowersaretarts



Category: Withnail & I (1986)
Genre: Emotions, Fear, Fog, Humour, Loneliness, Love, M/M, Walk, Wolves, care, park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersaretarts/pseuds/flowersaretarts





	Fog

Regent's Park. POV WOLVES

WOLF 1: Desmond, I think we are going to have a show. These two clowns are coming again.

WOLF 2: At this hour? It's five in the morning.

WOLF 1: I believe, it matters not to them. They are highly intoxicated, and their wristwatches had stopped a while ago.

WOLF 2: I say, Donald, your observational skills are impressive.

WOLF 1: Why, thank you, Desmond.  
Ah, here they are. My lord, what an appalling smell.

WOLF 2: I am not sure I am comfortable with their presence.

WOLF 1: Well, I suggest we approach them with indignation and urinate onto the bars, as a symbol of reproach.

WOLF 2: Wouldn't it be rather... radical?

WOLF 1: Desperate times, mon chere.

He comes to the bars and stares up at the man in a long grey overcoat. The overcoat stares down at him. Both look pissed and miserable. The other human in a dark leather overcoat stands aside, lighting a cigarette. He is clearly not interested in the surroundings.

WOLF 1 [turns away with a sigh] I am afraid I have no heart for this today. The weather makes me sentimental. I suggest we call it a night, Desmond. Desmond?

He realises he is alone. So does the grey overcoat on the other side.  
Both look around in panic. If the overcoat could sniff the air and whine, he would do it, too.

WOLF 1 [dramatically] I knew this moment will come. I will be separated from my beloved one and die, sinking in this ocean of tears!

WOLF 2: [V. O.] The weather does make you overly sensitive, Donald. I am standing right here. Listen for my scent. There, there.

WOLF 1 steps into the fog with great caution. Great relief, when he runs into WOLF 2, his nose is buried in thick fur.

WOLF 1: [with tenderness in his voice] Thank you...

On the other side of the bars, the grey overcoat crouches down with his face in his hands.  
Footsteps, then the leather overcoat looms over him.

LEATHER COAT: What the fuck is wrong with you?

The man rises to his feet, saying nothing.  
The leather coat sighs and wraps his arms around him.  
They stand together in silence, as the grey's shoulders shake less and less.  
The fog becomes thinner.  
The world gains back its shapes.  
It's morning.


End file.
